Something in me has lain dormant. I am, again, rebirthed. I am a shadow of a shadow of a self I can no longer remember. Death sharpens my features. I am finally terrified of him. Suddenly nothing matters, then everything does. Where should I turn to? I am so very alone and I always will be. So isolated, so contained. Fragmented within. Sleeping is better. It is death without finality. I want to exist on the words of a page. I want to fly. I want to twist time between my fingers like the stem of a flower. It is all in my head. It is all in my body. Both are lies. I cannot cross the bridge. My heart beats to a funeral march.
YOU ARE READING
ECSTASY
Poetrysuppose Truth was a woman... * * * A collection of poems & thoughts about life and death and everything in between. * * * Disclaimer: Everything you read here was collected directly from my notes and journals, so please excuse any excess passion or...
